


Not the Answer that Enlightens

by Yakkai



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Meditation, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yakkai/pseuds/Yakkai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a nomad, travelling by foot all around the remotest parts of India, trying to find the yogi that will help him harness the last vestiges of his stolen grace. Sam is stuck in the bunker, with his brother, and all he can do is miss Castiel more strongly each day. They catch up via skype calls, but one call is more interesting than most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Answer that Enlightens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PyriteDark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyriteDark/gifts).



> Written for the Sastiel Week 2013 Secret Santa for Pyritedark on tumblr. Their prompt was "Sam and Castiel are in a long distance relationship/separated somehow and communicate via Skype. Que awkward laptop juggling and dying battery drama and long, late-night chats. At some point one of the falls asleep while they’re still connected and the other watches them, wishing they could be there in person before ending the call." I didn't hit everything, but I sure tried!

Sam starts to think Castiel’s not going to show up. Sam’s been glued to his computer for almost 2 hours, waiting and watching for the little alert that would tell him that Castiel has come online. He sets his head down on the heavy wooden table, the dull thunk of his forehead echoing throughout the bunker library. If he holds his breath, he can hear Dean’s footsteps in some distant corridor, and it comforts him some, because even though Cas is gone he will always have Dean.

Sam hears the telltale chiming sound from his computer, and he exhales in a burst as he sits straight up, trying to see if it’s Castiel. He doesn’t even get the chance to see before he’s getting a video call, which more than answers his question. Swallowing back a huge grin as not to wear his heart on his sleeve, Sam answers the call and is greeted with Castiel, an apologetic smile on his face.

Castiel nods, “Hello, Sam.”

The quality of the video is not the greatest, and Castiel’s expression is broken up by errant pixels, but they try to make the best of it. Sam knows he can’t expect the greatest things of the internet in the more remote parts of India.

Even though he’s been trying to suppress it, he feels his grin burst forth. “Hey! I thought you weren’t going to show at first. Did I get the time wrong?”

Castiel looks a bit sheepish before he explains, “I may have underestimated the distance of the village somewhat. This internet café is rather accommodating, however.” Castiel turns around and gestures behind him, and Sam thinks that maybe accommodating is not the particular word that he would use. Sam knows Castiel is using the laptop that he and Dean bought him before he left the bunker on his journey of self exploration, but behind him there are a row of yellowed CRT monitors partitioned by cartons of cigarettes. Still, Sam feels lucky that Castiel is willing to walk miles into a town for the singular reason of talking to him. It brings a slippery warmth to his stomach that he dares not examine too closely.

At Sam’s skeptical expression, Castiel assures, “It’s only 30 rupees for an hour of internet, and they sell goat’s milk.” When Sam opens his mouth to ask Cas about the goat’s milk, Cas fills in, “Not that I’ll need it. I’ve recently purchased a fine goat of my own. I spent the rest of my money on it, but I can sell her milk and easily make back what I’ve spent.”

Sam can’t help the laugh that pours out of his mouth. It is amusing to imagine Castiel traversing the countryside barefoot, goat in tow, but when Sam imagines how happy this must make Castiel, he can only smile.

“I suppose meditation doesn’t pay well,” Sam notes.

“You’re not wrong. The yogi says I’m an exemplary student, however. I’ve earned mastery of breathing techniques and have become quite flexible. In fact, I’ve been focusing on the tantric path!” Castiel seems nothing but pleased with himself, although his smile is delayed several seconds by the slow internet.

Sam feels a flush tingle up his skin, blooming over his cheeks. He knows the Tantra is more than just sexual enlightenment, it is holistic, overall enlightenment, and the sexuality is just a part of it. Still, he cannot keep himself from thinking that Castiel will eventually reach that part of the Tantric path, when he’ll have to open himself up to his sexuality. He knows Castiel must realize this, but Sam doesn’t want to bring it up in the conversation. It might seem strange that of all the other aspects of the Tantra, the part that includes Castiel being naked and intimate with another is the thing he gets hung up on. Sam wrings his hands and is eminently grateful that Cas cannot see the motion.

Sam swallows, and the saliva is thick and heavy in his throat. “That’s uh, that’s great, Cas.”

Cas beams, and then asks Sam, “How is Dean? Have you two been, y’know,” and Castiel leans close to the computer and whispers conspiratorially, “hunting?”

“Yeah, we have. Dean’s fine, and actually, I bet he’d like to see you.” Sam doesn’t really want to talk about hunting. Talking to Cas seems like one of his only reprieves from it, and he doesn’t want Castiel to worry about them and lose focus on his meditation.

“I’d like that,” Cas says.

Sam puts up a finger in a ‘hold on’ motion, and then turns away from the computer and cups his hands around his mouth and shouts Dean’s name. He knows the library echoes enough that Dean can hear him in every corner of the bunker, solid steel doors or no.

Sure enough, Dean comes jogging in, looking somewhat worried, and when he sees Sam just sitting there at the computer his expression immediately melts into annoyance.  
“Where’s the fire?”

Sam purses his lips to hide his own annoyance, but gestures to the laptop, “Say hi to Castiel.”

Dean pulls up a chair and sits close to Sam so they can both be in frame, the brush of their arms a pleasant warmth. Dean and Castiel spend some time catching up, chatting idly about nothing and everything. Sam guesses that Dean doesn’t want to talk about hunting either, because he deftly dodges the topic whenever Cas brings it up. The three of them get lost in conversation and fill it with all sorts of inane things. Castiel pulls his foot up to demonstrate not only his newfound flexibility, but also all the calluses and dirt on the bottom of his feet from walking miles barefoot. Sam talks about his project working on a digital archive for the bunker library, and Cas looks enraptured while Dean makes farting sounds with his mouth. 

Before they know it, someone is tapping Castiel on his shoulder and speaking to him in displeased-sounding Hindi. Cas answers back quickly and then turns to Sam and Dean.

“He says I either must go or pay more rupees. Regretfully, I spent the last of my money on this call, so we’ll have to part until next time. Same time next week, alright?” Castiel nods at them, and then continues, “Dean, it was nice visiting with you. Sam, I miss you terribly.”

Sam feels something flutter inside him and he dares not look at Dean, not wanting to see his apprehensive expression. They both quickly get in their goodbyes before Castiel hangs up, and as soon as Sam closes his laptop, he turns to look at Dean and immediately regrets it.

Dean’s eyebrows are raised, and he mouths ‘wow,’ before saying, “‘I miss you terribly’? For real?”

Sam grumbles, “Shut up,” before stalking off to his room.

:::

Sam waits for two hours the next week, but Cas doesn’t show. At first, Sam assumes Castiel is just late again, so Sam quietly resolves to wait dutifully for him to come online. He never does. Sam tries not to feel too dejected, tries not to let his anxiety cloud his thoughts, but it’s difficult. Castiel is a world away from them. Something terrible could happen to him and they would probably never see or hear from him again. Sam won’t admit to himself or anyone else how much this thought terrifies him. Castiel’s humanity is a newly minted one, and he is warranted to see it through. After everything Castiel has been through, he deserves to live a long and happy human life.

Sam sighs perhaps a bit too loudly, because across the table Dean shoots him a glare. Looking back to his magazine, Dean says, “Calm down, princess. He’s probably too busy worshipping cows or whatever to come to the phone.”

Sam lets out an exasperated scoff. “Jesus, Dean! Could you be any more culturally insensitive!?”

Dean licks his finger and turns a page. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“It’s just. I get worried, you know? I mean he’s essentially defenseless, he’s not an all powerful being anymore and I’m afraid that’s gonna slip his mind and something bad will happen to him. He’s so isolated where he is, if something happens that might be the last of it. And we’d, we’d never know what happened to him.” He tries to ease the worry out of his voice somewhat, but he’s not altogether successful. Sam is starting to realize that he cares for Cas a lot more than he ever meant to.

Dean looks up, right into Sam’s eyes. “It’s fine, alright? If he doesn’t show in the next couple of days, we’ll, I don’t know, we’ll fuckin’ scry for him or something.”

Sam breaks eye contact and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

:::

A few days later, Sam gets an email from Castiel. He breathes out a sigh of relief before laughing at the contents of the message. It turns out the goat that Castiel bought was pregnant and, due to having to assist the goat in birthing a kid, Castiel was unable to make their date. The upside to this, it seems, is that Castiel’s goat is now making more milk than ever, and when he sells it he will be able to afford to go into the city for a few nights. Sam knows this means nicer room and board, and a few days vacation from Castiel’s mother-henning yogi. Castiel set a new date for them, in two weeks, and Sam quickly emails him back an enthusiastic yes.

He feels a lot better knowing that Cas is safe, and he passes the message along to Dean, who also expresses his relief but then makes kissy faces at Sam, who then punches him in the shoulder. Sam’s never thought about kissing Castiel, or at least that’s what he tells himself. Of course, Sam knows what it would be like. Castiel would lean up and press his warm, dry mouth to Sam’s, upturned pout capturing Sam’s lips and captivating him, and Castiel would tangle his slender, knobby fingers in Sam’s too-long hair. Sam knows what it would be like, he’s just never thought about it. Really.

“Christ,” Sam breathes, on his way to the library. He hasn’t felt like this since he was in college, and it’s faintly ridiculous. He’s a grown man, and mature enough not to be pining for someone like this, like a lovesick teenager. Jesus. 

Sam goes to his cart and goes through the motions of filing the books, putting them in numerical order. It’s all done on autopilot. Sam knows this library like the back of his hand, so it’s all become like muscle memory to him.

Sometimes he misses Castiel so strongly that he feels dull, aching and morose. He’s never felt like that about anyone or anything but Dean, but that was an altogether different sensation. Missing Dean was like missing a limb. Missing Castiel is like missing the last chapter of a book. He’s enraptured, he wants to know what happens next, but he can’t.

After they slammed all the angels back into heaven, after Cas fell, he and Sam spent so much time healing. They sat together and read on the dusty old couch in the library, they watched movies on Sam’s bed, they were mothered over by Dean. Sam never felt closer to Castiel than he did then.

Of course, Sam knows how lonely and scared Castiel was. With his grace stolen by Metatron, Castiel was the only angel to be left out, to be locked out of heaven forever, to roam the earthly plane for the rest of his days, punishingly mortal. It was this complete isolation that drove Castiel to almost catatonic silence for the first week after heaven was locked. All the angels were always tuned into each other, and the radio silence must have been unbearable. It’s probably why Castiel stuck so close to him, Sam imagines.

The proximity allowed their friendship to grow in spades, but it also let them suss out one of Castiel’s more interesting issues. When Metatron drained Castiel’s grace, he didn’t take all of it. Metatron almost certainly didn’t intend to leave anything behind, but some of it clung to Castiel, like the last vestiges of water sticking to the inside of a bottle.

Castiel tried to harness this power at first, but he couldn’t even work up the energy to move a book across the table. The most impactful thing he had accomplished was curing Sam of a headache, but only while his palms stayed pressed to the sides of Sam’s forehead. As soon as he removed his hands, the pain was back. Sam assured Castiel it was fine, he would fix it with some old-fashioned aspirin and a nap, but Cas was unfairly disappointed in himself. Castiel did everything he could think of to train himself to use the wayward pieces of his grace, but it was to little avail.

Eventually they thought to try meditation, but Castiel couldn’t maintain concentration enough to tap into his abilities. Sam wanted to help him, and he exhausted every book in the bunker’s vast library trying to find some solution for Castiel’s woes. In hundreds of years of Men of Letters history, in all the books and scrolls, there was nothing to help Castiel.

Cas seemed to stew on this problem for a while, and Sam honestly thought that he had decided to let it go. He didn’t speak about it for weeks, and then, about 3 months after heaven had been boarded shut, Castiel decided he wanted to go to India. Sam and Dean were a bit taken aback at first. It seemed too soon to let Castiel go out on his own, and Sam especially was worried about Castiel’s wellbeing. He couldn’t help but thinking of Castiel as childlike in demeanor, too-trusting and not weathered enough to be able to survive a nomadic existence. Dean quickly disabused him of this notion. After all, Castiel had been a creature millennia old in its wisdom, and Sam felt foolish afterward. Castiel could certainly handle himself. Sam just didn’t want him to go, didn’t want their steady companionship and camaraderie to end.

They all worked together to hustle up enough money to send Castiel. Sam knew how much Castiel wanted this, how important it was for him to see this through. They worked up enough to get him a plane ticket and some spending money, and Dean found someone to fake Castiel a masterfully done passport. Before Cas left, they gifted him with a laptop and showed him how to use it, and Sam instructed Castiel that he had to call or email at least once every few weeks. The plane ticket was open ended, which meant Castiel could stay as long as he wanted or needed.

He had been gone for four months, and Sam missed him more every damn day.

:::

Two weeks pass in no time at all. Sam and Dean wrap up two cases in the time, and while Dean sees it as a job well done, Sam just sees it as a job. Before he knows it, it’s the date that Castiel specified, and Sam can’t wait to talk to him again.

Castiel’s email never mentioned a time, so Sam leaves his computer up and running all day while he goes about his chores. There’s nearly a 12 hour time difference between them, so he doesn’t expect it to be any time earlier than midnight, really, but when it gets to be 3 am Sam is starting to tire. He brings his laptop into his room and sits at the table, dutifully waiting for Castiel to come online. The feelings of abandonment are starting to creep up on him as he nods off at the table, but as soon as he begins to think about going to bed, his computer starts chiming as Castiel calls him.

Sam snaps to attention and sits up straight in front of his computer, straightening his disheveled shirt and smoothing down his hair before hitting the answer button. Instantly he notices how much nicer Castiel’s surroundings are. He’s seated on a bed in a fairly nice hotel room, done up in charcoal grays and black, lamps lit behind him. 

Sam lets out a yawn and a, “Hey, Castiel,” voice somewhat rough with weariness.

A smile flourishes over Castiel’s face. “Apologies, I know it is late for you. I had to wait for a room to open up in the hotel, but as you may notice, it has wi-fi. It certainly has all the comforts. Who knew one could come to miss running water?”

Sam can practically feel Castiel’s smile waking him up, warmth spreading slow and sweet throughout his extremities like hot syrup. “So you made it into the city alright? And your goat is doing well?”

“Oh, yes. I walked a ways to the edge of the city and then rode a rickshaw to the center of New Delhi. The people here are so vibrant, and the food is unforgettable. I suppose if I were an angel yet I couldn’t enjoy these things properly.” Sadness colors Castiel’s expression for a moment and Sam wants to reach through the screen and gather him up. But Castiel shakes it off and picks back up, “But the goat is doing well, yes, as is the kid. The yogi agreed to babysit them for me as a reward for my progress.”

Sam’s hands start to sweat again. He wipes them on his jeans and asks, “How is progress? Have you been able to utilize your grace at all?”

Castiel nods excitedly before explaining, “It’s all little things, but I’m very pleased. I’ve mastered the breathing technique, and when I empty my mind of all, I can feel the grace vibrating within me. It’s. . . relieving. I made an orchid bloom just by looking at it.”

Pride wells within Sam. Neither of them thought that Castiel could even come this far. It’s impressive, and as much as he misses Castiel, he’s so glad that Cas took this journey. All the same, Sam knows there’s more to the path of enlightenment than just breathing exercises. A flush creeps up his chest, brushing over his shoulders and licking up his neck, turning him pink. He shouldn’t ask, but he can’t restrain his curiosity any longer. “What about the uh. . . the rest of the Tantra?”

Castiel gives Sam a look that’s too knowing for Sam to be entirely comfortable with it. Cas leans closer to the computer, and amusement flickers over his face. “I suspect you mean the sexual aspects.”

Sam bites his lip and nods. He feels thoroughly ridiculous, face and ears growing hot.

“Of course, I am learning those parts of the Tantra as well. Most of it is meant to be done with a partner, but I find that I do well enough on my own. In fact I have been, hm, extrapolating the teachings somewhat. I don’t know if it’s my grace helping me along, but I can do a most extraordinary thing. I would like to share it with you.” Castiel smiles like a fire, heat and menace, and it leaves no doubt to his meaning. 

Sam’s mind goes blank. Is Castiel asking to masturbate in front of Sam? It’s certainly a thought Sam’s entertained to some length, but it had always seemed absurd. And, of course, Sam was never going to ask him if he wanted to touch himself over the web cam for Sam’s enjoyment. But then, here’s Castiel, asking first. Sam doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Cas?” He ekes out, “What, what are you saying?”

“I am saying that I would like to bring myself to orgasm and that I would like you to watch. In fact, there is no one else in the world I would like to show this to more than you. Do you understand?”

Sam’s nerves spark like he’s being flayed from the inside out. He’s already half hard and half ashamed of himself for it. The other half doesn’t or can’t or won’t care because, jesus, the things that just came out of Castiel’s mouth, and Sam’s not sure he does understand, but he’s sure as hell not going to examine it too closely. And there’s nobody else in the world Cas wants to share this with more. Huh.

“Yeah, I. . .shit, I mean, yes.” Sam’s tongue flickers out to wet his lips.

Castiel smiles again, brightly, before scooting back on the bed to allow Sam full view of his body. Sam doesn’t know what to expect here, doesn’t know if Castiel’s going to get undressed or how he’s going to touch himself, but he’s not sure he cares, because anything Cas is willing to share with him is more than enough.

But Cas doesn’t strip or palm himself or anything at all. He closes his eyes, folds his legs, and puts his arms to his side, hands out, palms up. It looks like regular meditation. Castiel is silent for what must be a few minutes, and Sam stays silent also, not wanting to break his concentration. Still, Sam stares at Castiel, enraptured, listening to the steady sounds of his breathing, unknowing what to expect.

After what must be five minutes or so, there is a flicker across Castiel’s face, the twitch of an eyebrow, the slight curl of his lip, his eyes squeezing tighter shut. His face goes blank again, but then it’s there, in full force, and it’s not going away. His mouth parts and he lets out a huff of breath, and then his hands clench into fists.

It takes Sam a moment to realize, but when he does he’s blindingly hard in an instant.

Castiel is pleasuring himself without touching.

Cas lets out another sound, a low moan this time, and Sam’s hand shoots to his crotch, and he can’t help but palm himself, trying to ease off some of the pressure. Castiel is barely maintaining his composure, shoulders now shaking and jaw twitching, and Sam can see a bead of sweat slide down his throat and he’s never wanted to be in India so bad as he does just this second.

Another moan, louder, and Castiel’s hands fall to the bedspread to grip the comforter in bunches. Sam feels confined in his skin, and the pressure of his hand isn’t enough. He wonders if it’s wrong to touch himself like this, watching Castiel do something so intimate. But then, the Tantra is meant for two. Cas is gasping and moaning, and he can see the trembling strain in his legs, trying not to fuck his hips up into the air, and god, isn’t this the best fucking thing anyone ever learned to do with meditation?

Castiel’s legs come unfolded, and they’re spread in a V before Sam, and Sam can see so clearly Castiel’s erection tenting his linen pants, small dark spot near the head, and Castiel is wet and leaking. Sam’s mouth goes dry as he slides his hand past the waistband of his jeans, curling his fingers around his own cock. He groans unabashedly, the first sound he’s let out since Castiel started.

Castiel’s eyes snap open, and he throws his head back exposing the slender column of his pale throat, and Sam drinks it in, aching all over with the desire to run his lips and tongue over the milky skin. The Indian sun has barely touched Castiel, and fuck, what Sam wouldn’t do to get a taste. Sam’s jacking himself quickly, and he’s hot all over, tingling with want.

A scream next, a fucking scream, and Castiel seems to gain a moment of clarity, and tips his head down to look at the screen, to look at Sam. Sam knows he’s not exactly being discreet, the movement of his arm a dead giveaway if nothing else, but this only seems to spur Castiel on, and Cas fucking throws his head back and shouts Sam’s name, and that’s it, Sam’s coming with a cry all over his hand and the inside of his pants, hot and wet and dirty.

A shudder wracks through Castiel, and it looks like lightning hits him as he comes, his limbs snapping rigid and tight, a dark stain spreading at the crotch of his pants, and Sam hears a sparking sound. There’s a bright flash of light and then blackness. He’s still breathing heavily when the call disconnects.

:::

Sam has no idea what happened, but the guilt sets in quickly. He cleans himself off in the bathroom, hoping desperately that Dean was fast asleep in his room down the hall. Maybe, Sam thinks, he should have had the sense to put headphones on. Then again, it wouldn’t have made a difference for his own gasping. It’s really not something he wants to have a conversation with his brother about.

It’s been over half an hour since their call disconnected, and Sam worries that maybe Castiel is disgusted with him. Maybe Castiel wanted to show this to Sam as an achievement or as something to be proud of, not something for Sam to get perverse enjoyment out of.

He’s almost too focused on wallowing in his own self pity when his computer starts ringing. Sam clambers over his table and nearly knocks his computer off in a haste to answer it. Castiel’s in a smaller, enclosed area, and Sam notices that he’s changed his clothes.

“Hello again. Sorry about that. I’ve moved to the public computer in the lobby, as I seem to have completely shorted out the battery in the laptop. That’s certainly a new achievement for me. I didn’t expect to do something so potent when I had lost focus as spectacularly as I did.”

Guilt pangs through Sam, “Cas, I’m sorry, I know you uh, you probably didn’t want the distraction and I, I stepped over a line, and look, it’s--“

Cas looks annoyed and somehow amused all at once. “While you were certainly the cause of my distraction, I wouldn’t suggest in any fashion that it was a negative thing. In fact, your being there seemed to have. . . intensified the experience considerably. Additionally, if I had not wanted you to, ah, participate, so to speak, I wouldn’t have asked you to watch.” Castiel’s wry smile sends a jolt right through him, altogether different and more intense than his orgasm.

The only thing Sam can think to ask is what he wants to ask every time, but never does. He’s wanted Cas to determine it for himself, end his journey when he’s ready, not because Sam misses him like burning.

“When are you coming home? I. . . I miss you.”

Castiel lets loose a wicked grin, and holds up a return plane ticket. It’s dated 3 days out.

“Soon.”


End file.
